DH wants to be entombed; I prefer the burn myself. Much more efficient and takes up less space. Somehow, I just don’t see the value of a several-thousand-dollar drawer in a mausoleum. The several-thousand-dollar hole in the ground doesn’t appeal either. I’ve already invested in real estate, thanks.
Mayhaps it has something to do with the fact that he believes in God and Heaven, and I don’t. Or maybe he’s hoping to come back as a Zombie. The burn will prevent that, I’m told. Only way I’d get buried is if I could claw my way out, kinda like Buffy did.
Anyway, I’d like to give anything I could to whomever needs it organ wise and then be cremated. Don’t much care what is done with the ashes - I certainly don’t want to make my husband or son lug them around - I can’t even get them to get rid of all the crap they have while I’m alive!
Yes, sweet memories indeed. I’ll always remember nearly breaking my neck by slipping on a cadaver nipple that a fellow classmate, better suited to being a Benihana chef than a surgeon, somehow managed to drop on the floor. Hmmm. “I slipped on a nipple” – there’s a sentence that doesn’t come up in everyday conversation very often.
Then there was the time one of the cadaver heads came up missing. When located, the guilty student told police that he took it home in order to study it better. His story may have been more believable if not for the fact that the theft took place on the eve of Halloween.
Then there was the time that the cadaver testicles were…ah, no, I’ve droned on long enough. We’ll leave the other stories for a rainy day.
Me? I want to be cremated and have my ashes sprinkled over my dogs food in order to be defecated throughout the neighborhood.
I want my body taken to a taxidermist, stuffed and mounted in angry bear pose, and passed around to my living relatives to be placed by their front doors. One relative takes me for 6 months then passes me to another.
If I die young, I want to be made into a LifeGem. My husband is to get remarried but his new wife has to wear me. When her friends comment on her beautiful ring she can tell them that it is her husbands dead wife.
Realistically, I want my remains sent to the Body Farm or donated to some med school. If my organs can be harvested beforehand, then do that.
I would prefer to be buried, but as simply as possible - no embalming, no huge coffin (if necessary they could rent a show coffin for the funeral), etc. I understand that Orthodox Jews are buried just as simply as can be - just a shroud, IIRC - and that appeals to me. I want to return to the Earth.
My dad has a plot in Mount Royal Cemetery, which strikes me as a pleasant patch of earth to return to. (He was cremated, and I believe my mom wants to be as well.)
Failing that, I could be cremated and have my ashes scattered into the St. Lawrence from my favourite spot on Île Sainte-Hélène.
I’m probably going to go the “cremation then having my ashes made into a diamond” route. Something about the idea of the value of my material composition increasing upon my death amuses me.
Cremated, of course. Then I want my ashes mixed with poison and fed to whichever of my enemies was responsible for my death, or, failing that, whichever of my enemies has survived me, or, failing that, whichever living person is most likely to lead humanity out of whatever morass of suffering & despair I have left the world in.
About a year ago I came up with the idea of having my ashes scattered on a local popular beach. I get a sense of guilty pleasure knowing that some people would be squicked out if they knew they were sunbathing on or building sand castles out of bits of a dead person. But that’s just fantasy. In real life, I’d probably have my ashes dumped off one of the ferries that ply Puget Sound. If you’re still allowed to do that by then.
I know of a barber on Queen Anne Hill who had his ashes put in the planter outside his shop. I used to catch the bus that stopped there. He’s made the wait a little nicer with the pretty flowers he’s helped create.
Maybe I could have my ashes scattered on a community garden instead.
I figure that before Antarctica melts, there’ll be a catastrophic nuclear war over the dwindling fossil fuel reserves, touching off nuclear winter. So not only will the climate even out again, but future civilizations will have a hell of a lot of interesting ruins to explore, so there’ll still be a demand for the Geographic. So I win!
